


Stay

by Domino_Darkwolf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Affairs, Bed Sex, Bedroom Sex, Confessions, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Honesty, I'm Bad At Tagging, Idiots in Love, Kansas, Love, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Making Love, Motel, Nudity, Original Character(s), Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rating: M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sexy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 10:35:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Domino_Darkwolf/pseuds/Domino_Darkwolf
Summary: “Don't do this,” Sam said with a wounded look. He tossed his makeshift ice pack on the nightstand and sat on the edge of his bed. “We talked about this. Whatever this is that's between us.” He motioned at the distance that separated them. The force that wanted to draw them together. “It can't work. What I do, it's dangerous. Anyone I get close to ends up dead or hurt. And you.” He paused to let out a long, disappointed sigh. “You’re taken. By someone who is, apparently, also dangerous. Whatever this is.” It took him a minute to release the words he almost choked on. His brows creased in an injured expression. “We can’t explore it.”





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> This is a part of a semi-erotic story called The Preacher's Daughter, which happens to be a work in progress. I'm posting this segment here and now as it can be read on its own, but I'm also looking for a kick in the seat to get me and the rest of this story in motion. I have already posted another chapter as a stand-alone featuring Crowley called _Closer_. A friend mentioned there's a real lack of Sam smut and encouraged me to post this chapter as well. I hope it sparks in you an interest in reading the complete story (and in me the muses to continue writing).

Miriam ignored logic and followed her heart, and it led her to the Get Into Dodge Motel on the outskirts of town. She didn't dress to impress. She didn't have to with _him_. She could dress comfortably in blue jeans and a white halter with a faux leather jacket; she could wear Chuck Taylors and cheap stud earrings. She could drive with the windows down and she could arrive with wind-blown hair, and he would still gravitate to her.

Consorting with demons, being Crowley’s trophy, she was playing the part she had been playing for years; someone else. Abandoning all image like a bird taking flight from an open cage was freeing. And that freedom was, as temporary as it was, terrifying.

Maybe it was how deeply she cared for Sam that terrified her. The wind had carried him into her life, and the thought of it sweeping him away just as suddenly scared her. Or perhaps what scared her was knowing what Crowley would do if he discovered her there. If he were to interrupt what she was about to do; hear what she was about to confess... It wouldn't be death. No. It would be something much worse. And not just for her.

Whatever the reason, she could feel her pulse racing as she rapped on the red door marked 17 in brass. She held her breath in wait, chewed the side of her mouth, drummed her thigh with her thumb. And, when the door finally swung open, Miriam exhaled disappointedly at the sight of Dean standing in the threshold, his blue flannel sleeves rolled up and a half empty beer clenched in his fist.

“Hey, Miriam,” he greeted, his expression acutely unglued. “What are you doing here?” His face turned serious. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” Miriam quickly assured him. “I was just… I was in the neighborhood, and I…” She could feel her cheeks flush as she stumbled over words. “Are you guys okay?” Dean stared blankly at her. She sighed. “Can I come in?”

The hunter shrugged.

“Sure,” he said, sweeping to the side to make room for her. “Mi motel es su motel. Make yourself at home away from home.”

“Thanks,” Miriam said as she stepped past him.

A faint mildewy scent rose to greet her as she took in her new surroundings. Creamy white trim ran around the room between red walls and tired burgundy carpet. To her left sat a water-stained table and an outdated tube television that sat atop a dresser whose finish was peeling off. The right side of the room featured two queen sized beds, both still expertly made with red and gold bedspreads. One of the beds held the weight of any army green duffle bag left unzipped just enough to expose the small arsenal contained within. The other bed, the one closest to the door and Miriam, was occupied by Sam, who was holding a flimsy plastic bag of ice over his left eye. He took to his feet upon spying her and lowered the makeshift ice pack, revealing a deep purple bruise beneath his eye. A long, deep cut ran across his brow, a wound that was held together with a couple of butterfly bandages.

“Miriam,” he said, savoring the taste of her name on his tongue. “What are you doing here?”

Miriam's stomach fluttered with beating wings of a thousand nervous butterflies, and the boldness she had brought with her floundered in the Kaleidoscope.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Miriam replied with a half truth.

“He's had worse,” Dean said, oblivious to the awkward stare Miriam and Sam shared. “Remember the time that zombie chick broke your hand?”

Sam’s eyes flickered to Dean and his brows lifted. Dean returned his brother’s look with a wordless “what?” and Sam, pursing his lips, jerked his head towards the door. Dean’s eyes widened in understanding and he bowed his head. He quietly traded his beer for his keys and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair beside the table.

“I'll just…” He stopped, briefly considered where he was going, and just as quickly gave up. “Yeah.”

He went for the door, opened it, then paused to give Sam a wide, toothy grin and a double thumbs up. Sam rolled his eyes as his brother exited into the night.

Sam’s gaze returned to Miriam. She shifted awkwardly in her spot and gave him a nervous smile.

“That’s quite a shiner,” she commented, hoping to vanquish the stiff air between them with conversation. “Can I get you something for it?”

Sam held up the bag of ice, wordlessly indicating it was already taken care of.

“Right.”

More silence. And then:

“Why are you here?” Sam’s voice was rigid, yet somber.

“I came to check on you,” she said. Sam let out a curt, disbelieving breath.

“Why are you really here?”

Miriam sighed and took a few steps towards him.

“I wanted to see you again,” she admitted. “I didn't… I'm not ready to say goodbye.”

“Don't do this,” Sam said with a wounded look. He tossed his makeshift ice pack on the nightstand and sat on the edge of his bed. “We talked about this. Whatever this is that's between us.” He motioned at the distance that separated them. The force that wanted to draw them together. “It can't work. What I do, it's dangerous. Anyone I get close to ends up dead or hurt. And you.” He paused to let out a long, disappointed sigh. “You’re taken. By someone who is, apparently, also dangerous. Whatever this is.” It took him a minute to release the words he almost choked on. His brows creased in an injured expression. “We can’t explore it.”

Miriam slowly edged closer to Sam and sat softly on the bed beside him.

“The relationship I have is complicated,” she told him. He looked away from her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His jaw flexed, a tuft of hair drooped in his face. “And I don’t mean Facebook ‘it’s complicated’. It’s… I’m just a trophy to him. It’s not love. It just… is.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Sam questioned, tilting his head to look at her from his hunched position.

“Because I think…” Miriam hesitated. Saying it out loud would make it real, and the uncertainty of what would happen if she put it out into the world was daunting. But what she found more daunting was what she knew would happen if she kept these words to herself. “Sam,” she said when she found her voice again. “I think I’m in love with you.”

Sam stared thunderstruck at her.

“I guess I thought… I hoped that by telling you that, it would somehow change everything. But now that it’s out there, I probably just made everything worse.”

She pursed her lips and looked hopefully at Sam. His gaze was distant, his mind lost in a sea of thought. When he failed to produce a response, Miriam read his silence as rejection and stood.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I’m an idiot. This was a bad idea.” She glanced down at Sam, who’s eyes were still fixed remotely on the carpet. “I should go.”

She moved swiftly for the door with tears welling hot behind her eyes. It wasn’t fair, her meeting Sam after meeting Crowley.

_No. This has nothing to do with fair. You’re an idiot. You had to know fucking the King of Hell was a bad call._

She swiped away a tear that broke free and pulled the door open. It was hardly ajar when a strong hand from behind forced it shut, and she gasped in surprise. She spun around and peered up at Sam. His expression was stone, but his breath was irregular, his body on the verge of shaking. He stared down at her, his hazel eyes almost blue in the dim light, his left hand pressed against the door to the right of Miriam’s head. Her heart began to hammer with hope, and, just when she thought Sam might give up whatever was on his mind and let her walk out, he bent down and placed his lips upon hers.

Spirit sparked at their touch. Sam cupped the sides of her face in his hands as he inched closer to her. He kissed her like her lips were the key to salvation; as if the existence of all creation depended upon it, and she matched it with equal fierceness.

He reluctantly withdrew and leaned his forehead against her’s. His uneven breath was warm on her face, his fingers electric as they combed through her hair.

“Don’t go,” he begged in a whisper.

“Okay,” she said in a wistful sigh, and he smiled – _really_ smiled.

They surrendered to the chemicals between them with reckless abandon. Lightning shot through their veins as their lips brushed together, their eyes closed and their tongues danced in a heated fervor. Sam led them in a pirouette, and he slowly backed her towards his bed. He tugged her jacket off, peeling it away from her shoulders down her arms, and left it where it fell. Miriam’s fingers tore at the buttons of his plaid shirt, eagerly freeing them from the top down until it hung loose around his tall stature. He vigorously shook the article free and knitted his fingers through her hair.

Miriam found the edge of the bed with her legs. She lost balance and fell backwards, pulling Sam down with her, and they broke their kiss to share a lust-drunk giggle. Miriam inched her body up the bed, and he moved with her on hands and knees, their eyes locked and loaded with a ravenous urge to quell the flames of desire before it burned them alive.

Sam dipped his head and tenderly kissed the juncture of her neck, igniting a magnetic vibration in her bones, and she hummed in approval. His lips caressed the flesh of neck in a slow, upward pattern, invoking the same pleased moan as he traced her jawline. When their lips rejoined, he gently coaxed her into an upright position and slipped his hands between fabric and flesh. The silky touch of his fingers sliding up her waist tickled and excited her, and her hips responded by bucking against his.

Sam lifted her top and Miriam raised her arms to help him strip her of her clothing. Their lips reconnected and Miriam mimicked Sam’s last move, reaching her hands between fabric and flesh, feeling his washboard abs contract slightly under her touch. She traced the lines of his muscles for a moment before she lifted the hem of his shirt up and over his head.

Sam kissed her distractedly as he swept his hands along her back and tugged at the clasp that bound her black lace bra to her breasts. He fumbled blindly to unhook it, snapping the elastic against her back once, twice, three times before she made a move to assist him.

“Sorry,” he muttered, acutely flustered by his clumsiness. Miriam smiled.

“It's okay,” she quietly assured him, taking her own hands to her back and expertly unhooked the garment. She shrugged it free and flicked it over the side of the bed where it dropped soundlessly to the floor. Sam ran his hands down her soft breasts before drawing himself in for another tender kiss. He leaned into her, gently encouraging her to lay back, and she did not resist. Her head hit the pillow, her hair spilling about her like a platinum halo, and placed her hands on his firm biceps. His hips brayed softly against hers, rubbing denim against denim, the bulge within growing steadily as she began to quiver in anticipation. His lips broke away from hers, and kissed her cheek, her jaw, down to the juncture of her neck. They stroked her clavicle, sensually moved down her chest, brushed the valley between her breasts and traveled further down still. They trailed the length of her midsection in slow, open mouthed kisses, past her bellybutton, and didn't stop until they reached the waistband of her bluejeans. His eyes flickered up at her, gauging her reaction, and grinned when he spied her biting her lower lip, the wordless plea for him to continue. He shifted, sitting on his knees beside her, and carefully unbuttoned her jeans. He gradually slid them past her hips, taking with them the gossamer pantries that matched her bra. He got them as far as her knees before realizing she was still wearing her sneakers. Miriam helpfully kicked them off to allow him to strip her free of all clothing.

Sam took to his feet where he hurriedly kicked off his own footwear while he unbuckled his belt. He kept his eyes on her as he removed his jeans, drinking in the sight of her naked body like a fine wine. He stepped free from his pants and gradually climbed up the bed to her. She spread her legs in welcome, eagerly offering all of herself to him. He pressed himself against her, flesh against flesh, and gave her an open mouth kiss. And, just as he was about to take her, he paused.

“I should get a condom,” he whispered shakily, dreading the thought of having to part from her if only for a moment.

“It's okay,” she whispered, grabbing his arm before he could roll off of her. “I'm clean. If you are…?”

Sam hesitated.

“That's not what I'm worried about,” he said. Miriam smiled.

“I can’t get pregnant,” she added.

It was all Sam needed to hear to bring him back into the moment. He kissed her again before he moved further up the bed to align his pelvis with hers. His height advantage put her head at his chest, and he propped himself up on his left elbow to allow a little space between them, just enough to keep her breathing. He used his right hand to guide his fully erect member into place, and he penetrated her with a slow thrust.

Miriam’s mind exploded like a supernova, and a gasp rolled from her lips. If Sam was a drug, he was heroin. He took her higher than she had ever been, and she never wanted to come down. The world around them dissolved until the only thing they knew was each other's name. The only thing that made sense was the thunder in their veins and the divine ecstasy that echoed in their souls.

Every molecule in Miriam’s body from her toes to her finger tips trembled in a euphoric frenzy as Sam pushed himself inside her in a slow, steady cadence. Her breath hitched with each tender thrust, and her face contorted in a silent scream. She enveloped his body in her arms while he carefully traced the outline of her body with his right hand, down to her ass. He drew her against him as he rocked himself deep inside of her, gentle as summer breeze, intense as a raging inferno. His eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched before it went slack, exhaling a muted groan of passionate bliss.

Miriam moaned softly, her breath hot against flesh budding with sweat. She moved her hips in rhythm with his, encouraging the torrid heat between them to swell, bringing it to the brink of detonation. Her eyes fluttered shut and, in a terse moment of clarity, she found herself silently praying for the first time in years that their entanglement would be infinite. To be made immortal so they could stay like this forever.

He throbbed within her, and his muscles tensed; she could tell he was close to climax. He was fighting it, resisting the urge to let himself go. And not just because he didn’t want to finish before her, but because he, too, wanted it to last forever.

“It’s okay,” she whispered to him before her breath hitched. “I… I’m…”

Her words were subdued by a high pitched moan as she lapsed in a euphoric flash. She pulsed against him as his muscles went taut, his member throbbing and a long sigh of satisfaction rumbled in his throat. He stayed inside of her for a minute before he rolled onto the bed to her left, gulping down a deep breath.

They laid there for a moment, side by side, listening to the drumming of their hearts, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“Wow,” Miriam said after a while. Sam let out a short, breathy laugh.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

Miriam rolled to her side and draped her left arm over his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat under her palm. She nuzzled closer to him, laying her head in the crook of his neck, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“A girl could get used to that,” she said. Her fingers swept across his bare chest in a loving caress.

“I could definitely do that again,” Sam returned. He turned his head and gazed down at her. “I would like to do that again.” He paused and his face grew flush. “What you said earlier, about how you think you’re in love with me.” He paused again, but this time the interlude came with a small smile. “I think I might love you, too.” And he kissed the top of her head.

A small smile formed across Miriam’s lips, but a weight sunk in her gut at his words. Not because she didn’t want him to love her. Not even because of her complicated situation with Crowley. But because, deep down, Miriam didn’t think she deserve to be loved. Not by someone like Sam.

The falseness of her smile was not well hid, and Sam shifted slightly to look at her.

“What?” he said, insecure by her reaction to his heartfelt confession. “You didn't change your mind, did you?”

“No,” Miriam quickly replied. “It's not that. At all,” she stressed to ease his mind. “It's just…” She faltered, uncertain of how to convey her hesitations or if she wanted him to know. “I'm not… I haven't always been like this. My history is kind of… dark.”

Sam’s expression turned thoughtful for a moment, mulling over her words and what his own response might be. When he did reply, it wasn't with words. He took her hand in his and gradually turned it, angling her wrist in his direction. Miriam winced in embarrassment as he peered down at the angry pink scar. He brought it up to his lips and placed a tender kiss upon the blemish. It was not an act to wash away the sins of her past, but an act of acceptance. A loving gesture that told her he didn't care what she had done or who she used to be. An understanding that the past was a part of her, and he loved her despite of everything.

Miriam was moved to the brink of tears. She blinked furiously, refusing to ruin a perfect moment by crying, and peered up at Sam with misty eyes.

“If anyone can understand a shady past, it's me,” he told her earnestly. “You've seen what I do. My past is pretty dark, too.” His gaze turned to the ceiling, his hazel eyes moving back and forth as he immersed himself in thought. “Everything we did in the past, even the bad stuff, made us who we are today. I think the important thing is that we learn from our mistakes and not let them dictate our present.”

“That was a little too deep for me right now, Socrates,” Miriam teased as she snuggled into him. Sam let out a tiny laugh and wrapped his arms around her.

“Actually, according to an online test I took, I'm more of a Plato,” he joked, and Miriam giggled.

A quietude crept in as the world around them began to reappear; the red walls, the rumbling of cars on the highway, the faint smell of laundry detergent mingled with the scent of Old Spice and sweat. Miriam tried to enjoy the moment; Sam’s strong embrace, the lilt of his heartbeat. But as reality re-materialized, it brought with it a complex question.

“What are we going to do?” she asked tentatively.

“I don't know,” Sam admitted. He stroked her hair for a moment as he contemplated the problem. “I mean, I would like to take back what I said earlier. Find a way to make it work. I guess it all really depends on what you want to do.”

“It would be a lot easier if I could do what I wanted,” Miriam said with a note of contempt woven in her words.

“You can,” Sam tried to encourage her, and she sighed.

“No,” she said sadly. “I can't. I wish I could, but the situation I'm in. It's ugly. It's not really a relationship. I’m basically property. Ending it won't be as easy as walking away.”

“Who is this guy?” Sam questioned, his tone somewhere between jealous and interest.

The tempo of Miriam’s heart skipped a beat, then increased. Her stomach dropped and her chest tightened. Of course he was going to ask her about him. There was no way they could have gotten this far without it coming up. And Miriam knew he was going to hate it.

She could lie, she considered. For half of a second. Because the reality was that she couldn't lie. To Crowley, yes. But not to Sam. Never to Sam.

“Miriam?” he said, and she realized a large chunk of silence had passed. She sucked in a deep breath and sat up, softly removing his arms from around her body. She couldn't lie to him, but she couldn't face him when that truth was told either. She turned her back on him and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

“Miriam,” Sam said her name again, bolting upright. “What's wrong?”

Miriam bowed her head and brought her hand to her forehead.

“The man I unwittingly sold myself to… he's not exactly a who. He's a what.”

Sam’s brows creased in unease.

“Miriam, what is he?” he asked, his tone firm and afraid, as if he already knew the answer, but he didn't want it to be true.

“He's a demon,” she revealed with a heavy shame. Sam’s jaw tightened.

“What demon, Miriam?”

A tear broke free and trailed down the right side of her face. And with a whisper, she said one name:

“Crowley.”


End file.
